


I wanna feel like other people do, with you

by macwell



Series: Prompts [2]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Established Relationship, Interior Decorating, M/M, Making Out, we love a domestic fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 07:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14327676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macwell/pseuds/macwell
Summary: Prompt: Mac and Dennis redecorating Mac's room to turn it into a nursery for Brian Jr.





	I wanna feel like other people do, with you

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I want to spend my life with you  
> Maybe I want to spend my life with you  
> I wanna feel like other people do, with you  
> So maybe I want to spend my life with you

“Mac, we’re not painting Brian Jr.’s nursery red,” Dennis says, folding his arms across his chest. He can tell that Mac is ready to argue because his mouth opens before Dennis can even finish his sentence.

“Dennis,” Mac says. “Red is the color of men. It’s robust, strong-” 

“It’s the color of war and blood, Mac. Do you want Brian Jr. to wake up in the middle of the night and think there’s blood all over the wall?”

“No. That’s not-“ Mac splutters. “That’s just stupid. He’s not even going to know what blood is.”

“I actually already got some paint…” Dennis says. He kicks the door of the nursery shut, and, sure enough, there’s a can of paint behind it, sitting next to the wall. “Its technical name is Powder Blue. According to the lady at Home Depot, it’s the perfect paint color for a baby boy’s nursery - a subtle, calming shade of light blue with a slight tinge of purple.”

He watches, and sucks in a breath, as Mac’s face contorts with hurt. “Do you like it?” Dennis asks, even though he already knows the answer. 

“You picked a paint color without consulting me?” Mac asks.

“I didn’t think you’d have stupid opinions on the color palette,” Dennis shrugs.  “Blue is traditional.”  

“Come on, Dennis,” Mac says. He studies Dennis with vulnerable green eyes, which Dennis finds annoying, more than anything. He knows what to do with Mac’s rage, but he’s not equipped to handle whatever this is.

Mac’s probably waiting on him to apologize or say something, but Dennis just stares back at him, his eyes slightly narrowed. Mac reaches for the door. “I’m gonna go hang out under the bridge or something.”

Dennis’s heart pounds in his ears. He grabs Mac’s wrist and skips a beat, before saying, “Wait. Don’t leave.”

Mac raises his eyebrows like _You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that._

“Don’t leave,” Dennis repeats. “I didn’t think you would get your feelings hurt.”

“Oh my god, dude. Is that supposed to be an apology?” Mac asks. He tugs his hand out of Dennis’s grasp.  

“Stop. You’re not even listening to me,” Dennis complains. “Look, what if I let you pick a color for an accent wall?”

“Oh sure, you get to pick the color for three walls, and I get to pick the color for one. That seems fair.”

“Mac.” Dennis rubs at his face.

“What if there were two accent walls?” Mac says.

“Two accent walls? …Hm. I think you might be on to something there.”

“Yeah?” Mac asks.

“Yeah, dude. I mean, it would be unique, but if we pick the right color, I think we could make it work.”

“If I pick the right color,” Mac amends.

“Not red,” Dennis says.  

“Maybe red, though,” Mac says.  

“Nope,” Dennis says.

“I mean, we can discuss it when we get to the paint store. I’ll show you what I’m talking about.”

“I know what you’re talking about, and I don’t like it,” Dennis says, stubbornly.

“WELL I DON’T LIKE YOUR STUPID BLUE COLOR DUDE, SO YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT.”

Annnnd there was the rage. Dennis reaches for Mac, and runs soothing hands along his firm shoulders. “Shhh, Mac, it’s fi-”

“Dennis. That doesn’t work when I’m pissed at you,” Mac huffs, defiant. He won’t quite meet his eyes.

“It does a little bit though, doesn’t it?” Dennis asks.

“No,” Mac says.  

“You know… I was thinking, about you painting, earlier,” Dennis says, taking a step closer. “You wouldn’t need to take a lot of breaks, because your arms are so strong.”

“That’s true,” Mac says. “You were thinking about me, huh?” He flexes his crossed arms. Dennis feels his shoulders stiffen under his hands, and he can’t resist the temptation to run his fingers along the swell of Mac’s biceps.

Mac bites his lower lip to hide the beginnings of a smile. “Stop trying to distract me,” Mac says. “I’m mad at you.”

“Are you kidding me? _You’re_ distracting _me_ ,” Dennis insists, although he’s very much still on mission. He figures if they bang Mac might forget about the whole paint color thing. His memory’s already pretty poor as it is. Plus, it’s not like seducing Mac is some kind of chore for Dennis.

“Am I?” Mac asks, his warm breath ghosting over Dennis’s lips. “Distracting you?” Dennis’s stomach flips. Mac doesn’t realize his power, to turn knees to jelly, and to send Dennis’s head spinning. Dennis likes it that way, so, with the composure of a saint, he presses closer, and initiates a gentle, coaxing kiss. He cups Mac’s face with one hand, stroking the stubble along his jawline with his thumb. Mac melts into it, open mouthed and welcoming. Sometimes Dennis can’t believe he went so long without even kissing him. It’s unbelievably easy, how everything falls into place when they’re together.

“Yeah,” Dennis breathes, when they pull apart for a moment. “You are.” Mac’s hands sneak under his shirt and hold him just above his hips, and Dennis inhales slowly through his nose.

Mac backs him up against the wall, and intensifies the kiss, turning it into more of an urgent, living thing, with more pressure and a hint of teeth. In lieu of cupping his face, Dennis places a hand on the back of his neck, against the soft baby hairs. His grip there tightens involuntarily when one of Mac’s hands drifts downwards, and squeezes his ass through his jeans. He’s thankful for the wall against his back because his legs are not cooperating.

Mac starts pressing kisses against the column of his neck, his beard rubbing against Dennis’s skin, and Dennis leans his head back to give him better access, thinking _bite, suck, anything, please_.

Then, after placing a kiss on Dennis’s jawline just under his ear, Mac whispers, “I’m so happy.”

Dennis didn’t ask. But Mac’s eyes are bright, when he leans back to smile at Dennis, and Dennis feels strangely warm all over, when Mac says, “He’s going to like it here, Dennis.”

Dennis wants to ask _How do you know that?_ Instead, he just clings to Mac, and kisses him again, like his raw optimism might be contagious. Mac squeezes through his jeans again, and Dennis feels ready to drag him to the bedroom ( _their_ bedroom), when Mac says, “Hey, let’s go to the paint store.”

“You’re kidding,” Dennis huffs.

“No?” Mac says. Sensing Dennis’s irritation, he stops touching him, and crosses his arms across his chest again instead. If anything, that pisses Dennis off more.

To make his intentions clear, Dennis reaches for the hem of his shirt. Mac stops him before he pulls it over his head, and Dennis sees that he’s smiling, again, when the fabric is no longer obstructing his vision. He frowns.

“I’m actually really into the paint thing right now.” Mac says. “Sorry.”

“I hate you,” Dennis says.  

Mac holds up his keys, and jiggles them, a big, cocky smile on his face. “Come on.”

“You did not-”

“Snatch them from your pocket? Bro, you made it too easy.” After taking a few steps toward the doorway, Mac glances back at Dennis, who’s still standing against the wall, collecting himself. “C’mon,” he says again.

Once they’re in the entryway, Dennis tugs a jacket on over his button up shirt. He hands his boyfriend an old hoodie, because otherwise Mac will just wear his cut-off shirt and complain about how cold it is the whole time. When Dennis holds his hand out for the keys, Mac passes them over wordlessly.

“You know, I was thinking, what if we did something kind of abstract?” Mac suggests, as Dennis locks the apartment door behind them. “Like one of those modern art assholes.”

“For Brian?” Dennis asks, skeptical.

“Yeah. Maybe if he grows up with some of that weird shit on his walls, he’ll like. Get it.”  

“I don’t want him to be any weirder than he’s already going to be,” Dennis says.

“What are you talking about? He’s going to be great,” Mac says.

Dennis lets the conversation lull. He looks down at his sneakers, and the stained carpet of their apartment complex, as he thinks about the damage that he’s already done. Brian Jr. didn’t have a father. Then he had a father that abandoned him. Now he’s going to have parents that share him.

Mandy could find a nice man, maybe an actual pilot, or a veterinarian. A father figure for Brian without all the baggage, and without all the money spent on plane tickets. Maybe then she’d want full custody. Dennis wouldn’t blame her. He’s a recovering alcoholic, and he missed the first few years of parenting practice. He has to take medication to stay half fucking stable. His net worth is a shitty bar, a car that doesn’t always start, and $432 sitting in a checking account.

“He is,” Mac insists, stubbornly. His faith’s something to marvel at. 

“Okay,” Dennis says. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, and exhales slowly.

Once they’re in the car, Mac presses a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m going to sign him up for karate lessons,” Mac says, after a moment.

“Dude-” Dennis starts, a smile breaking across his face, even as he starts to protest.

“I am,” Mac says. “He’s scrawny, and he’s gotta learn how to defend himself.”

“Against other toddlers?” Dennis asks.

“Yeah, they’re brutal. They don’t know right from wrong, and they’re all teething.”

“Okay,” Dennis says.  

“Okay, yes?” Mac asks.

“Okay, maybe,” Dennis concedes. “Do they even have karate classes for toddlers?”

Mac starts talking, and he doesn’t stop talking until they get to the paint store. Dennis is sorry he asked.  

—

A few days later, they’re sitting on the nursery floor on a plastic sheet, eating turkey sandwiches off of paper plates. Dennis has navy blue paint on his sweatpants, and Mac somehow got a streak of it just above his jaw. Dennis’s head feels light. The room’s everything he wanted it to be: three baby blue walls and one the color of the night sky. Mac picked the color out, after Dennis vetoed a few other options. 

One more coat of paint, and it will be perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Should I just rename this series Mac and Dennis: HGTV? I don't know what I'm doing, and I'm on tumblr @bravegaymac. Comments/kudos are appreciated.


End file.
